Semper Fidelis - The Marine Part One

Of course there are ghosts.Anyone who grew-up – heck lives in New York – has seen and/or lived with at least one ghost.Everyone loves the Brownstones.They are the home to several ghosts with all the history found in New York.Even my grandmother had her own personal ghost.It’s true because she told it was.He’s buried at New Albany National Cemetery, located at New Albany, IN.The cemetery is just across the Ohio River from Louisville, KY. Yes, I looked him up, but I’ll just call him the Marine.It’s no coincidence he’s buried in Indiana in a town named after the capital of the state of New York.

According to the Department of Veterans Affair website, for the duration of the Civil War, the fairground was converted into Camp Noble.New Albany became a tactical resource and drill center for the Union regiments fighting in the South.A hospital was established for the wounded being sent north, and also part of the Underground Railroad for slaves escaping from the South.My grandmother’s story starts way before the Marine’s final resting place.

The Marine and my grandmother came together in Brooklyn, NY around September 1965.My grandmother was a 15 year old Catholic school Junior.She was the youngest of five African-American children including four brothers.As my grandmother remembered this time in her life – it was the pits! Growing up in an African-American neighbor, everyone knew you.That meant every adult was an aunt or uncle related or not.It meant that if got caught by a neighbor doing something they deemed wrong, they did not wait to tell your parents.They literally took matters into their own hands – then told your parents – and so the punishment continued.There was always a hawkeyed neighbor “hanging out the window” just waiting to spy on some innocent neighborhood kid.Worst for my grandmother, she went to Catholic school which meant wearing an ugly uniform (grandma’s description), easily spotted blocks away.That was the tip of the iceberg.Being the youngest girl she was always introduced by her older brothers as “my baby sister.”That killed any chance of a boyfriend. Having a sister as a second mother was the death of a social life.

The Marine arrived - one day he was just there. These were his pre-Marine days. He didn’t grow up in the neighborhood, but quickly made friends.He worked at the local grocery store.He and my grandmother exchanged greetings like he did with all the other customers.Grandma got to know him better when he came down to the park to play basketball.He was the only guy who took the time to shot hoops with her.It seemed everyone else was her brother or too scared of her brothers to approach.When the two did converse, grandma talked about having a life without babysitters/watchdogs/becoming a nun, and he talked about being a Marine.

During the 1960’s, the military wasn’t very popular. Lots of American troops were fighting in Viet Nam, and dying. Families who could afford to send their sons to Canada did so. Some families packed up and left, moving the entire family to Canada. Other families found loopholes to keep their sons from active duty. Yet many, many more like the Marine couldn’t wait to sign-up to fight.Towards the end of 1965, the Pentagon declared that if the major operations needed to defuse North Vietnamese and National Front for the Liberation of South Vietnam (Viet Cong) forces were to succeed, U.S. military levels in South Vietnam would have to be increased from 120,000 to 400,000. As a teenager, my grandmother said she had no real understanding of the Viet Nam War.Viet Nam was one of those places somewhere in Souteast Asia whose name kept changing.The name was changed from the ancient name of An Nam to Nam Viet.The 1802 Chinese Emperor switched the order to Viet Nam.The name changed again to Dai Nam in 1832. Viet Nam renamed in 1945 by the National government.At one point the French called the area French Indochina including what is now the nations of Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. My grandmother admitted she cared less except to get the name right on geography tests.She said it wasn’t until she read accounts of The Pentagon Papers (U.S.-Vietnam Relations, 1945-1967) that she realized much of what was taught to her in school was in error. This fact made her cry sometimes when she thought of the Marine.His good intentions to fight were based on misinformation.

By 1966 the Marine was in basic training.My grandmother had promised to write, but lose interest when she got no replies to her letters. Being a teen, she was unaware that soldiers in training sometimes are not allowed and/or able to write back. She also didn’t know there was no one else to write him. The Marine never talked about himself or family, so she was unaware he was a foster child, never adopted or connecting with his foster families.

He came “home” in the June 1966 before being deployed. For some reason the Marine felt the need to share on that hot evening in New York.It was also the first time he realized how young grandma was.They were supposed to go to a going away block party for him. A sent off from the neighborhood before his going to Viet Nam. It was a strange conversation that had a profound consequence on my grandmother. The Marine met and married a fellow Marine after she got pregnant.He said she really wanted to get away from home where her father was a senior pastor. She really hated active duty more, but the only way out was to get pregnant and a medical discharge.He said he thought this would be the family he desired, but after meeting her family, he was sure. Her father being a senior pastor was all about appearances.They had another wedding at which he officiated. Instead of his wife moving into base housing to be with him, she stayed with her family.He’d seen her briefly.So here he was on his last night in New York, and his wife was in Indiana.

“I want you to be my beneficiary on my military life insurance.”My grandmother, “Say what? What does that mean?” “Don’t worry,” says the Marine. “I’ll be there to tell you exactly what to do…..”

“Beneficiary on your military life insurance? I’m not your wife!How does that work?” “Ok I understand you’re perplexed, but let me tell you the plan,” the Marine trying to calm and reassure my grandmother. My grandmother ignored the effect, “I’m a kid – a teenager for God sakes! Ask my parents.”

The Marine fell silent – not from defeat, but to let my grandmother gather her thoughts. Once she stopped hyperventilating, the Marine continued.He told her he needed someone strong, who would not cave to pressure. Neither his wife nor my parents fit the bill. His wife would do whatever her father said. Her parents would give in to authority. This was really important to him he stressed.Out of all the people he considered, grandma and he had no emotional history. They never talked except on the basketball court, never dated or even shook hands.If grandma finally agreed, there had to be no good-byes, hugs and she could not go to the party.

“When you go to war, you are coming back, right?”

The Marine never answered, but asked if she agreed to the terms.The Marine made his request, and he finally gave the purpose for all of this – “If I die I want to be buried in a military cemetery. I don’t want to spend eternity in my father-in-laws church cemetery will old people I have nothing in common with! I’m a Marine. I want to be buried with Marines.”

From the mouth of a naïve teenager – “That’s it?” Grandma said that she was totally clueless to how big that request really was.It escaped her that his wife would not honor his wishes.She also did not understand what a negotiating tool that life insurance policy was.